


too much

by kerrykins (orphan_account)



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: A vent, I Just Had A Panic Attack Here's What it Felt Like, I don't even know how to tag this man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 00:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17090474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kerrykins
Summary: This is really an odd bit of writing, I'm going to regret posting this once I wake up but it's fineI'm fine now, just really shook





	too much

**Author's Note:**

> I think my shadow's caught up to me

Miranda had reluctantly gone to work. All she really wanted to do was to stay home and stare emptily out the window, not really seeing the trees or hearing the chirps of birds outside.

 

She wanted to hide away, curl herself into a blanket and fashion herself a cocoon from which she’d never emerge. Free to live in a comfortable prison for the rest of eternity.

 

God, she felt sick to her stomach, like a rock had come crashing down inside the pit of it, attaching itself to the bottom. Miranda had always been a very articulate person, and always in perfect control of her emotions. Now, however, she wasn’t any of those.

 

Unraveling, slipping away, drowning, and getting eaten alive were the least colourful ways she could describe it. Sharp triangles of hideous purple and assorted neon light cut into her mind, rendering her thoughts incoherent. It was as though someone had stepped onto the rails of her train of thought and sawed off a large portion of the tracks, flinging it out the window. It floated away, gliding in the air as gently a leaf. The train would plummet off the tracks, diving into water and swirling down the drain.

 

Her mind was a VHS tape that was being fast forwarded, lines blurring, flashes of light coming and going before she could process it, a faint whirring noise in the background. It was quiet, but persistent. She was a dead battery, running on autopilot.

 

The more Miranda tried to rationalise and explain this unexpected surge of emotions, the more intense they grew. Anymore pressure and all her circuits would blow, she thought, but it never did. That is, until those triangles of gaudy colours began smelling like burnt croissants and stung like fresh papercuts. They didn’t actually, but the older woman’s mind told her so.

 

Miranda was unsure of everything. Was she alright? She didn’t know. What was happening? She hadn’t the faintest idea. What caused it? No comment.

 

It was as though a switch had been flipped, and it was jammed. Miranda’s thoughts were a whirlwind of stuff. Ordinarily, she hated the word “stuff.” But “emotions” did not even describe a fraction of what she was experiencing.

 

Her feelings had no name. The amalgamation of so many emotions was overwhelming. Perhaps it was just the absence of emotions, that they’d been totally expended.

 

Either way, Miranda was rooted to her spot, unable to think of anything, yet able to feel everything.


End file.
